SIYE Time:6:53 on 21st March 2019

By morphin3

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Category: Alternate Universe
Genres: Fluff
Warnings: Mild Language
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 6
Summary: "Another Valentine's Day single and alone. You'll be my wingman, won't you?"

Hitcount: Story Total: 1053

Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.


Ginny sighed loudly, and Harry looked up at her. This was her third sigh in the last five minutes, and he was beginning to wonder if she had something in her throat and was too stubborn to cough. His eyes went to her neck, then her hair, then the fingers that were currently twisting a strand of hair. Her eyes caught his suddenly, and Harry blushed and looked out the window.

The two of them were seated in the living room of Ron and Harry’s apartment. It was a tiny place in London, which was all they could afford, really, on their uni budgets. But it was clean and bright, despite the rather dreary February afternoon.

Harry hoped that Ron and Hermione would hurry up and get here soon. It was bloody painful to wait here alone with Ginny, but the four of them had plans to go out to the nearby pub for a relaxed Valentine’s Day dinner, and Harry couldn’t very well back out because the girl he fancied was sighing, could he. Harry found he very much wanted to sigh as well.

“They said half past, right?” Ginny broke into his musings.

“Er, I think so,” he answered, glancing at his watch. “But the tube is bound to be extra crowd- oh, here they are.” The sound of footsteps, giggling, and low murmurs trickled in from the hallway. The key turned in the lock, and Harry thought he heard Ginny mutter, “Here we go,” under her breath, but he wasn’t sure.

Ron and Hermione swept in, his face a bit red, her hair rather disheveled. They were gazing at each other with such obvious affection that Harry felt a bit jealous. He knew that his face had occasionally looked like Ron’s now looked, bright and filled with love and a bit of wonder, but the difference between Ron and Harry was that Ron had someone looking back at him. Harry shook his head and tried not to sink into self-pity.

“Er, ready?” he asked, and Ron and Hermione’s bubble burst and they looked at him.

“Sure, sure, mate,” Ron said quickly, and Hermione flushed a bit and nodded and hurried to the bathroom.

“I’m just going to fix my hair,” she called over her shoulder. Ron smiled apologetically at Harry, then turned to Ginny, who was drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair.

“Hiya, sis,” he said, extending his fist and knocking her arm gently. “Alright?”

“Alright,” she replied. “Just bloody hungry and ready to go.” She stood up then and went to put on her coat. Harry followed her with his eyes, watching her as she buttoned herself up and then flipped her hair out of her collar.

Ron cleared his throat. Harry jumped; he hadn’t realized Ron had been watching him. Blushing, Harry stood and went to put on his coat, avoiding Ron’s smirk.

A few months ago, after a couple of pints at the pub, Ron had asked Harry point-blank if he fancied Ginny, and Harry had hemmed and hawed so long that Ron had slapped him on the shoulder and bought another pint to put Harry out of his misery. Since then, Ron had been annoyingly observant anytime Ginny was around, and it was beginning to drive Harry a bit mad.

“Shall we head out then?” Harry said loudly, directing his voice and his gaze down the hall towards Hermione. He couldn’t look at Ginny, obviously, nor Ron, and it would have been odd to talk to the wall.

Hermione rushed down the hall. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Ginny opened the door and stepped into the hallway, turned and watched as Ron helped Hermione into her coat. He leaned in to whisper something in her ear, and Hermione flushed. Harry cleared his throat as he followed Ginny into the hallway, and she rolled her eyes at him.

“God, they are sickening, aren’t they,” she muttered, and in this moment, Harry was inclined to agree.


At the pub, Harry looked around anxiously for a table with four separate chairs, but in the crowded pub, only booths were available. He was torn between feeling awkward {Ron and Hermione would surely take advantage of this opportunity to sit close}, pleased {he and Ginny would have to share the other side of the booth}, and nervous {how many more ways could he make a fool of himself sitting so close to Ginny?}.

He slid into the booth until he hit the wall, wanting to give Ginny as much space as possible. Hermione slipped in across from him, smiling gently at him.

“How are you, Harry?” she asked as Ron and Ginny took their seats; Ron slid in much closer to Hermione than Ginny moved to Harry, and Harry tried not to let it bother him. As much as he would like to put his arm around Ginny and pull her to himself, they were not a couple, he reminded himself.

“Harry?” Hermione prompted him, and Harry snapped his attention back to her and away from the distance to Ginny.

“Alright, Hermione,” he answered, swallowing his awkwardness. Ron and Hermione were his oldest friends, and they were sweet to include him and Ginny on this Hallmark holiday.

Hermione opened her mouth again, but Ron jumped in. “Drinks, all? I’ll get the first round,” and he got up and pulled Hermione with him. She glanced back apologetically at Harry as Ron tugged her towards the bar, his hands sliding around her waist with practiced smoothness.

Ginny sighed and turned to Harry. He looked at her immediately, always aware of where she was in a room. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Well,” she said, as if they had just finished a conversation, “another Valentine’s Day alone and single. You’ll be my wingman tonight, right?”

“What?” Harry was quite stunned.

“My wingman,” Ginny repeated calmly. “You know, a mate who helps you get a date?”

“I know what a wingman is,” Harry said, frowning. “I mean, why do you need a wingman? You don’t need any help.” The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to filter them.

Ginny turned to face him more fully. “What do you mean?” Her eyes were wide, and her perfume teased Harry as he stared back at her.

Harry considered his options. He could tell Ginny that she could have any person in this pub, that she was so smart and wonderful and gorgeous that literally anyone would fall in love with her. Alternatively, he could slide off the bench and melt under the table.

If he started talking, what were the odds that he could get the words out right? He doubted that he could get his meaning across, because he thought Ginny was absolutely magnificent and she was perhaps the best person he had ever met, and there were no words in any language to articulate this.

He realized that he was still staring at Ginny, and she was still staring back at him, and he swallowed, frantically deciding whether to speak or slide.

Then Ginny kissed him.

Her skin was hot, burning him, but this did not stop Harry from kissing her back. He did not have time to wonder what was happening, did not pause to consider their public location or the awkwardness of kissing in a booth. Her hand gripped his neck, pulled him closer, and he managed to wrap his arm around her waist. Her other hand came up to cup his cheek, bumping his glasses, and Harry wondered if he would combust from the electricity that coursed from Ginny’s touch.

Her lips opened slightly and she tilted her head, and holy hell, why had he not done this years ago? He tugged her even closer so their chests were pressed together. Ginny sighed against his mouth, the sound filling Harry’s ears and fogging his brain.

Eventually, Ginny pulled back. Harry blinked a few times, gradually focusing on Ginny’s face again. She was smiling at him, and he couldn’t help grinning back. Then he remembered where they were and all the words he hadn’t said, and a pit formed in his stomach.

“So,” he said, trying to sound casual. He knew he just sounded miserable, though, and his face was betraying him. He started to pull his arm back from Ginny’s waist, but she grabbed his hand.

“You looked like you wanted to kiss me but were talking yourself out of it,” she said matter-of-factly. “So I kissed you first.”

Harry tried to force his brain to comprehend her words, tried to form a coherent response, but all he could get out was, “But...wingman?”

Ginny laughed, and the pit in Harry’s stomach relaxed slightly, then clenched painfully again. Was she laughing at him? Was this a cruel joke?

Ginny stopped laughing when she saw his face, and she tightened her grip on his hand. Still smiling, she put him out of his misery. “Harry, I couldn’t think of another way to get your attention.”

“Get my attention?” Harry repeated incredulously. “You’ve had my attention since A-levels!”

“Yeah, and you’ve done fuck-all about it,” Ginny retorted.

Harry gaped. His mouth opened, but no sound could get get past his shock. He felt light-headed, like all the oxygen in the room was gone. Was Ginny saying what he thought she was saying?

“I… I didn’t know you wanted me to,” he muttered, dropping his head. Oh god, had he ruined it all?

“Well, I thought asking you to be my wingman might help you work it out,” she said, reaching out to tilt his face back up to hers.

Harry met her gaze. Her eyes were sparkling, her lips were smiling, and one hand was still on his face, the other tightly holding his in her lap.

“So in case it wasn’t clear, Harry,” Ginny said, “I quite fancy you.”

Harry kissed her again. Ginny leaned into him enthusiastically, her hand on his face sliding up into his hair. Her cheek bumped into his glasses, but it didn’t seem to deter her.

After a minute - or possibly an infinity - Harry pulled back, gasping a bit as he caught his breath.

“Gin,” he gulped, “I don’t want to be your wingman.”

“No?” She smirked at him, her hand sliding down a bit to play with the hair just above his neck. Harry shivered under her touch, and her grin widened.

“No, I think I’d rather be your valentine.” He smirked back at her, and then leaned in to kiss her once more.
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